


Our Bodies like Earth

by cleanlittlesecret



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Alternate Universe, Asphyxiation, Blood, Flowers, Hanahaki Disease, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Body Horror, Implied/Referenced Parent Death, Japanese flower language, M/M, Medical Trauma, VRAINS Rarepair Week 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-09-22 23:46:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17069489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleanlittlesecret/pseuds/cleanlittlesecret
Summary: In a Garden of children with flowers growing in their hair, Takeru  is choking on petals, and Yuusaku has scars between his ribs.(Written for the prompt "Hanahaki Disease.")





	Our Bodies like Earth

The flowers grew ruthlessly, springing from the ground, scrambling up walls, and tumbling from the sills of windows that denied them entry. Humans had long grown sick of seeing them, of inhaling a jumble of perfumes with every breath, but Takeru still loved them. Maybe a Hana could never stop loving them.

“Get back here! I told you all to stay where it’s shallow!” The sunflower on the side of Onizuka’s head bounced as he charged into the river like a stampeding ox. He’d allowed the bloom to grow big as a dinner plate because the kids liked it, and many of them giggled as they fled his wrath. “Come back, or we’re all going home now!”

In some places, the flowers coating the long slope of the riverbank grew tall enough to reach Takeru’s thighs, and if they wanted, they could wrap around his knees, climb him like a ladder, or drag him to the dirt, but they stayed gentle in respect to the ones that had claimed him before he was born. When Onizuka tripped into the water and sent up a spray that dyed a rainbow into the burning sunlight, Takeru chuckled and turned his head. “We might need to…” His voice withered as Onizuka’s enormous laugh rang off the river.

The few trees dotting the riverbank lived as little more than oversized posts for the flowers to climb. Yuusaku had chosen one dripping with wisteria, and as he leaned against its trunk, he appeared unaware of the vines reaching from the branches, straining to climb inside him like they belonged there until violet petals detached and landed harmlessly in his hair. Something welled inside Takeru’s chest, filled his throat, and tied his tongue, and he found himself caught until Yuusaku glanced over. “What is it?”

Takeru dragged his gaze to the yellow flowers— _camellias_ —at his feet. A roar sounded from the river and was followed by a shattering splash and a shrieking chorus to _get him!_ “Maybe we should help Onizuka-senpai before he drowns.”

“He can handle it.”

Takeru raised his voice over the noisy struggle. “I’m sure he can, but we promised to help keep the kids in line.”

With a shrug, Yuusaku left the shade and shook his head to dislodge the wisteria petals. “Don’t blame me if you get drowned instead.” Other flowers reached towards him from the ground, but after a touch, they retreated to let him pass like any other Hana.

Closer to the river, the flowers’ aromas mingled with the bitter rot brewing in the water, and hours later at the Garden, Takeru smelled the mixture in the changing room outside the showers. Rows of beige shelving filled with discarded clothes covered the walls around him, but he still sniffed his pajama shirt to make sure it wasn’t producing the smell before pulling it over his head. A pair of children’s scissors Yuusaku had once _borrowed_ from a playroom waited in his pocket, so after dropping his dirty clothes into the laundry basket, Takeru grabbed a plastic trashcan and claimed his seat on the narrow bench beside the door.

After getting dressed, Yuusaku found Takeru and took the scissors, and the _snick_ of the blades rasping together blended with the feeling of fingers carefully sorting through Takeru’s damp hair to find flowers to cut. The trashcan sitting in his lap was already half-filled with pink hibiscuses and white gardenias, but as the cutting continued, red spider lilies buried them.

“You have more than usual today.”

Takeru twirled a spider lily between his fingers so the small petals and long stamens blurred. He always had more on Sunday nights because he’d skipped a cutting, but this was still excessive. “I guess I really liked going to that river earlier.”

_Having many flowers means you’re happy,_ she’d said. _Having few flowers means you’re miserable._

“It wasn’t anything special. Places like that are everywhere.”

“But it was really pretty.” Takeru peeked through his drying bangs. “You looked like you belonged there.”

Yuusaku stopped to raise an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Takeru shrugged. “Just a thought.” The room buzzed with boys preparing for bed, but it was all distant beyond what Yuusaku was doing, and the routine lured Takeru into drowsiness until a stem above his ear was tugged.

“Hold still. I don’t want to cut you.”

* * *

The others had told him about Yuusaku the day Takeru arrived at the Garden. Supposedly, they’d done it so he wouldn’t be alarmed by a Hana who’d lost his flowers, but in retrospect, it seemed more gossip than help.

Yuusaku had still been little when he’d coughed up petals from an unusually intense crush on another Hana child, and rather than wait to see if the situation would resolve itself or use a Hana method, his parents had consented to have him undergo an experimental procedure to surgically remove the invasive flowers from his lungs. On a technical level, the surgery had worked. On an emotional level, it had killed him. Yuusaku had become unrecognizable as the loving kid he’d been, and his own flowers had never regrown from where they’d been cut before the procedure, so a few months later, his parents had brought him to the Garden, claimed they couldn’t raise this child, and left him. He still had the scars, short cuts that had grown faint in the spaces between his ribs.

Much later, Yuusaku had told him about the two fresher scars running across his chest. When he started explaining what top surgery was, he’d crossed his arms and held Takeru’s gaze like a challenge, but as Takeru accepted the information, Yuusaku had opened enough to allow something close to a smile.

* * *

With their flowers cut, Hana were almost indistinguishable from humans. They were the results of human bodies bonding with flowers, so only one human in their class talked to Takeru and Yuusaku, and that was because nobody else in the school gave this guy a bit of attention.

“So the two of them attack each other, and they both go flying back like _whoosh!_ ” Shima’s hands soared apart, and if he’d been on television, bubbly sound effects would have popped into the air around him. “But their powers are so equal that neither of them dies!”

It was an unwritten part of their class schedule: when lunchtime began, Shima commandeered the chair before Takeru’s desk, and as they ate, he chattered about whatever had caught his obsession that day, Takeru listened and asked occasional questions, and Yuusaku struggled to stay awake. Shima was as lively as the events he described, but Takeru couldn’t grasp why an ogre and a swordsman would fight to the death in a wrestling ring, and when he opened his mouth to ask, pain stung his chest. He turned his head to cough on reflex, but once it started, he couldn’t stop, and the talking faded to silence.

“Uh…Homura, do you need something to drink?”

His eyes watering, Takeru covered his mouth. “No, I’m—” He gagged, and a chair screeched across the floor beside him before a hand grabbed his arm.

“We’re going outside.” Yuusaku pulled Takeru from his desk.

“Do you need some help?” Shima called, but Takeru was choking, and Yuusaku almost slammed into a girl entering the classroom.

“Fujiki-kun!” Zaizen recoiled with a glare, but when she noticed Takeru, her eyes widened. “Is something wrong?”

Yuusaku didn’t pause as he led Takeru through the doorway and to a deserted stretch of hall. The coughing plastered something to the back of his tongue, so Takeru reached into his mouth to find small petals, light blue but stained pinkish at the edges, that stuck to his fingers. Despite the tightening in his stomach, he squinted through his glasses. “Who do I know that has flowers like this?”

Yuusaku took his hand and pulled it closer to examine the petals. The answer showed in his wide eyes as his grip tightened. How strange it must be to see part of yourself drawn from another person’s body, especially after all these years. “We should go home.”

Takeru pulled free. “It’s just started, so we can at least stay long enough to finish our classes.”

“If a human sees you doing that here, it’ll be trouble. Besides, Sako-san needs to know.” Yuusaku turned to head back down the hall before Takeru could respond. “Stay here. I’ll get our stuff.”

Pressing his lips together to hold back a sigh, Takeru found a trashcan in the hallway and dropped in the petals so they fell under test papers and other school-day debris. Couldn’t things have continued as normal for a little while longer? Shima’s voice sounded as a distant, “Fujiki, what the _heck—_ ” before Yuusaku returned with their schoolbags.

“Let’s go.”

Nobody stopped them as they left the campus, and if anybody they passed thought it odd for two boys in school uniforms to be traveling the city in the middle of the day, nothing was said to them about it. They soon reached the sign that read _Den City Garden_ , and as Yuusaku typed the number to open the gate, a row of sunflowers peered over the wall like watchmen.

Wide like a school building with a concrete porch and beige exterior, the orphanage looked more like an institution than a home, but the flowers covering the grounds and scaling the walls softened its edges. Inside, the owner was settling the baby Hana for a nap in the nursery, but when she spotted Takeru and Yuusaku through the door’s window, she came into the hallway. “Why are you two home so early?”

“Takeru coughed up petals at school,” Yuusaku said.

Squeezing her hands at her sides, Sako nodded. “When I get a minute, I’ll call Tsuda-sensei.”

“It’s wisteria.”

Her mask of competent control slipped. Sako glanced at Takeru before biting her lip and turning away. “I’ll make the call. Please wait in the infirmary, you two.”

The Garden’s infirmary was a small room divided by curtains walling off the cots for resting, but nobody else was in there, so Takeru claimed a wheeled desk chair from the table against a wall. As a human, Sako’s most unusual trait was her total comfort with Hana and their issues, so seeing her even a little unsettled made his thoughts buzz. Yuusaku stood against the wall with his hands shoved into his pockets and his glare rooted to the floor. He didn’t look up when Takeru forced a short laugh.

“Well, this isn’t the best situation, but it could balance out so they’d go away on their own, right?” Takeru rubbed the back of his neck. “I-I mean…that’s what happened with my parents, so…I think…” He scrubbed his palms on his pants. “Sorry. Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No.”

Takeru turned his seat back and forth as his throat ached with an old pain. “I was still little when my parents…I mean, I didn’t get much time with them, so I don’t…What did it feel like when you were in love?”

Yuusaku huffed. “It was just a kid’s crush.”

“It was enough for you to get sick.”

“It was a stupid crush. I don’t remember much about it anymore.”

Takeru interlaced his fingers to stop their fidgeting. “I’m not trying to pry, but I’ve never really dealt with this before, so I don’t understand what it’s supposed to be like. Do you think there’s a chance…?”

Yuusaku shut his eyes. “I don’t feel like that anymore.”

“…Oh.” Takeru looked away. Hanging from the ceiling, paper flowers colored with crayons and markers swayed in the draft from the air conditioning.

“I should have known this could happen,” Yuusaku said in a low voice. “I should have…”

Sitting back, Takeru turned slow semicircles in his chair. Despite the danger of the flowers, people talked about falling in love like it was one of the best parts of life, but when Sako entered with the human Tsuda, nobody mentioned something so romantic. The short examination ended with the doctor listening to Takeru’s breathing through a stethoscope, and Tsuda nodded as he stepped back to stand beside the table.

“It’s still early, so they’re probably only petals now, but…Well, I’m sure you already know what the problem is. Normally, I would recommend exposure therapy if it was needed, but that doesn’t seem to be an option.”

“Then how can Homura-kun be sick?” Sako pressed her clasped hands to her chest. “You can’t get sick from somebody who doesn’t have flowers in them.”

Tsuda scowled. “It’s an unusual situation. It’s been years since Fujiki’s flowers stopped growing, so something could have changed by now. We need to investigate more, but from how things are now, the only option is the surgery.” He looked at Takeru. “That’s not to say you have to rush into anything. Another solution could be found in time. You’re only in the early stages, and we won’t force you on the matter. For now, you should go about your life as normal.”

A little too late for that suggestion.

Tsuda waited in silence, but when Takeru didn’t respond, Sako set a light hand onto his shoulder. “Homura-kun?”

Takeru took off his glasses to rub his eyes. He wanted to hide in his bed while the room he shared with several other boys was empty. “Sorry. Can I go now?”

“Yes. You both may leave,” Tsuda said. “I know it’s a lot to process. We’ll talk more later.”

Takeru let out a breath as he escaped the infirmary, but he stopped in the hall when he noticed Yuusaku had moved to the side just out of the window’s view. Sako’s voice slipped through the closed door. “How long does he have until…?”

“I’m not sure. Given his health, he should last for a good while, but flowers often grow unpredictably in teenagers. We’ll keep a close eye on him.”

“And Fujiki-kun?”

A sigh. “I don’t know what’s happening there.” His voice dropped so the wall muffled it into obscurity, and when Yuusaku glanced at him, Takeru tilted his head with a smile.

“Since we’ve got the rest of the day off, I’m thinking about taking a nap. What about you?”

His eyebrows furrowing, Yuusaku looked away. “I…”

“You don’t need to worry about me. I feel fine.” Takeru kept his voice low so it wouldn’t sneak back into the infirmary. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

After a nod, Yuusaku left, and once he was alone, Takeru leaned his shoulder against the wall pulled his lip between his teeth. The true weight of what had happened was sinking into his flesh and pressing on his lungs.

_Having flowers in your chest means you’re in unrequited love_ , she’d said.

_It means you’re going to die,_ he’d said.

_Takeru!_

The door opened to let Tsuda leave, and when Sako stepped into the hallway soon after, she noticed Takeru and rounded on him. “Were you…?” But then her eyes softened, and she stepped closer. “Are you all right, Homura-kun? You look like you’re about to cry.”

He felt like he was about to vomit.

* * *

A photograph preserved in a magnetic frame was stuck to the metal headboard of Takeru’s bed. Despite his efforts, the picture had faded and softened around the edges, but in it could be seen a little boy standing between a man and a woman—the last photo taken of him with his parents before the car accident. After his father died, pink sweet peas had grown from the body’s face, chest, and limbs, and the same petals had poured from his mother’s mouth. The doctors had said if she’d been just injured or just sick, she would have survived, but the combination had proven fatal.

_I really do love you, but I love your father too, and I miss him so much. You must understand, Takeru. I’m so sorry._

The flowers had bloomed together, pink sweet peas and purple ericas, as his mother left him.

* * *

Despite their precautions the day before, everybody in their grade knew, and under the weight of all those stares, Takeru ducked his head. He should have bought a facemask on the way to school.

Waiting beside their desks, Shima’s nerves were impossible to miss as he fidgeted with his shirt’s collar, but Takeru smiled like he didn’t notice. “Good morning.”

“Homura, are you really…?”

“Sick?” Takeru set his schoolbag on his desk. “It’s not contagious, so there’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“Why does everybody already know?” Yuusaku said, and Shima crossed his arms.

“Don’t look at me when it’s your fault. You may not know since you sleep in here so much, but people tend to notice when somebody cuts class halfway through the day, and he’s a Hana, so—”

“I get it,” Takeru said. “Don’t mind Yuusaku. He’s just on edge today.”

Shima mumbled something close to an agreement before raising an eyebrow. “By the way, don’t you guys have some trick to fix it on your own? Couldn’t you have done that before coming back to school?”

Exposure therapy—drying and burning flowers from the source’s body where the sick person could smell the smoke until it tricked the invasive ones into dying off—was the best way Hana had found to  treat themselves before the surgery had been developed, but it required time and flowers. They had plenty of one and none of the other.

“That’s not an option right now,” Takeru said.

“Why not?”

A teacher entered the room and called for order, so Takeru was spared as Shima hurried to his own seat along with everybody else, but as the class settled, he caught Zaizen staring from her desk a few rows ahead before she turned to the front, and he blinked. Was she worried about him being sick, or was she upset about how they’d almost run her over the day before? He brushed off the matter to focus, but after classes ended, Zaizen approached him as he carried a trashcan from the room.

“Homura-kun, I need to speak with you.”

Furrowing his eyebrows, Takeru shifted his grip. “Can it wait a minute? I’m kind of busy.”

Her expression blank, Zaizen walked beside him as he left the building and headed towards the dumpster. The campus was a patchwork of concrete and dirt carefully maintained to keep flowers from taking it over, but it had rained during the afternoon classes, so the ground was dark with puddles that glinted as they passed. Takeru gave her a sideways look.

“Is this about what happened yesterday?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry about that. We didn’t mean to run into you, but it still—”

“What? No, I didn’t mean _that_.” After glancing around, Zaizen moved closer and dropped her voice. “You coughed up petals yesterday, right?”

Takeru raised an eyebrow. “What about it?”

“My older brother is a Hana too, and he has a really good doctor for it.” Zaizen stopped on the pathway’s concrete edge as Takeru continued to the dumpster hidden against one side of the building. “This doctor refuses to see most people, but if you want, I can ask my brother to try to get you an appointment.”

After dumping the trash, Takeru faced her and let the empty can hang from one hand. “Why would you do that for me?”

“Because I think he can help you. He’s already done a lot for my brother, and you said exposure therapy wouldn’t work for you.”

“You were listening to us this morning?”

She folded her arms over her stomach. “It’s not like I’m asking who you like or whatever. I don’t care about that. This doctor is a little off-putting, and he’s a human, but he’s worked on groundbreaking stuff, and he’s looking for sick Hana like you for treatment. How about it?”

Her description sounded little too optimistic, but this could be a chance for something better—something other than the surgery, at least. Takeru nodded. “That would be nice. Thank you, Zaizen-san.”

She nodded. “When I have an answer, I’ll let you know.” She headed back to the building at a trot, and Takeru let her stay well ahead until he reached the classroom and returned the trashcan to its spot beside the door. Most of the other students had left, but Yuusaku sat at his desk with his cheek resting in his hand, so Takeru stopped behind him and tapped his shoulder.

“You still awake?”

Yuusaku leaned back to look up. “You took a while.”

Takeru grinned at his upside-down face. “Thanks for waiting then. Should I buy you a drink to make up for it?”

“Did something happen?”

As he grabbed the bag from his desk and checked to make sure he had everything, Takeru said, “I was talking with Zaizen-san. She told me she can try to get an appointment for me with some doctor who treats Hana. I know we already have Tsuda-sensei, but this one might find a different solution, so I think it’s a good idea.”

“You’ll become some human’s lab rat.”

Takeru blinked. He knew Yuusaku enough to catch how he’d tensed his jaw and narrowed his eyes, but he couldn’t read the thoughts behind it. “What are you talking about?”

“Humans always say they want to help, but most of them just want to experiment. You can’t trust her or this doctor she’s told you about.” Yuusaku looked almost casual as he spoke, but rot filled his voice, and Zaizen’s _groundbreaking_ resounded in Takeru’s mind before he shook his head.

“I think she only wants to help, and if there’s a chance I can get better without the surgery, then I want to take it.” He shrugged as he searched through his bag. “Besides, we don’t know that he’ll see me yet, and I still need to talk with Sako-san about it.”

“You—”

Takeru pulled a palmful of coins from his bag. “More importantly, what do you want to drink?”

* * *

Before moving to Den City, Takeru had never cut his flowers. His hometown had been a rural place with a population more Hana than human, so everybody had learned to ignore the flowers, but Den City didn’t have the same ease, so a single petal wouldn’t be allowed past the school gate. The first time Yuusaku had spoken to him had been when he’d caught Takeru picking the flowers from his hair in their bedroom.

_You can cut those._

_What?_

_With scissors. You don’t have to pull them._

_Well…I’m not used to doing that, so I’m kind of afraid I’ll mess something up…_

_Then I’ll do it._

* * *

DISPOSE OF ANY STRAY FLOWERS IN A TRASHCAN.

Staring at the sign on the wall, Takeru fidgeted with a spider lily whose red stamens hung beside his eye as he sat on an examination table. Identical signs had been posted around the waiting room and every hallway, so the clinic was spotless, its blinding sterility unspoiled by a single rogue petal. Flowers weren’t welcome in this place, but here he was, his hair full of lilies that had gone uncut since his coughing had forced him to quit attending school.

Sako stood watching the street outside through a closed window. Her weak attempts at distracting conversation had faltered into silence, and when the door shot open, she whipped around to say in a thin voice, “Well?”

Genome stood before the sign as he consulted a clipboard through circular glasses that made him look owlish—smart and a little goofy. “I understand there’s something wrong with the source of these petals?”

Takeru shifted his legs. “He’s had the surgery to remove flowers from his lungs, so he hasn’t grown any of his own since then.”

“And when was the surgery done?”

“Ten years ago.”

“Ten years?” Genome looked up with a frown. “In that case, it’s strange that his flowers haven’t returned.”

“What do you mean?” Sako said. “The surgery always makes flowers stop growing.”

“For a while, yes. Surgically removing flowers from a Hana’s body kills the patient’s own flowers, but they should return over time. As for the emotional changes, how those heal is determined by personal factors like the patient’s mental health, their environment, and whether they get follow-up treatment. Of course, most Hana have been scared away since knowledge of the early reactions has become widespread, and the later research has been controversial, so this procedure is rarely done anymore, but every other case I’ve encountered has seen the flowers return in about a year.”

Sako’s frown deepened. “Then why haven’t his come back?”

Genome raised one hand in a shrug. “I don’t know. Hana can be unpredictable patients.” A grin spread across his mouth like it’d been carved there. “It’s quite fascinating how they react to different things. Only so much research has been done on the Hana body, so things like this are mostly trial and error, but we have discovered that the flowers have changed them on a genetic level. That’s why they can survive a condition that kills humans within hours, and their brains—”

“What about—” Takeru forced a swallow down his dry throat. “I came here to get help.”

Genome’s expression dimmed. “Of course. Well, I’m assuming since you’re pursuing treatment that the happily-ever-after route isn’t an option, and if the source doesn’t have flowers, then you can’t do exposure therapy, so the best solution would be surgery.”

Tension seized Takeru’s body. Tsuda had said the same thing, so what was the point of coming here? “Then why did you—”

“I’m interested in the source of your problem.” Genome set his clipboard on the counter among the boxes of gloves and bottles of disinfectants. “Recently, some of my colleagues and I have discussed the possibility of transferring flowers from one Hana to another. The conversation has been mostly about grafting personal flowers, but as you can probably guess, most Hana are unwilling to undergo such treatment. However, as the flowers in your lungs are descended from this seemingly flowerless Hana, this could be an excellent chance to try a transfer.”

He could help Yuusaku? Head buzzing with the possibility, Takeru vaguely heard Genome continue with something about a test to ensure the petals he’d been coughing up could take root in rats first, but Sako broke through as she said, “This is too much. What you’re suggesting is experimental, and I haven’t agreed to that for either of these boys.”

“The best progress is often made through experimentation,” Genome said. “If the transfer doesn’t take, the invasive flowers will still be removed, and if it does work, then the source will finally recover, and we’ll learn more about Hana and how to treat them. Shouldn’t it be more his decision?”

“He’s still a minor under my care,” Sako said, and Takeru pressed his hands together.

“I want to try it.” He met Sako’s stare. “If I can help him, then I want to do it.”

“I won’t agree to it.”

“Then at least let me do the first test. That can’t hurt me, right?”

Sako furrowed her eyebrows as she grimaced, but when he refused to backpedal, she looked away. “Fine. I’ll allow the test, but I want you to talk with Fujiki-kun before you go any further than that.”

“Excellent.” Genome snatched up his clipboard and scribbled like he was writing a prescription. “We’ll need a sample of the invasive flowers, but it’s not hard to stimulate coughing in these cases. After that’s done, schedule a return appointment with the receptionist. I’ll send in a nurse.” He opened the door but stopped to frown at Takeru. “Next time, cut your flowers before your appointment. We don’t want a mess here.”

The outside of the clinic was as sterile as its inside, but as they left, Takeru hopped over a thin row of yellow primroses that had forced themselves through a split in the concrete. Sako’s requirement sounded easy to follow, so when Yuusaku came home from school, Takeru asked to go with him to the changing room because it would be the one place not crawling with kids at that time of day. The whole Garden knew Takeru was sick, but he didn’t want to be overheard as he explained the visit, so they sat on the bench together, and when he got to the part about needing the surgery anyways, Yuusaku tensed beside him.

“But it’s not as bad as most people think it is. He said it’s normal for your flowers to stop growing, but they should come back after a year.” He watched for a reaction, but Yuusaku’s concrete wall of an expression didn’t change, so Takeru continued, “I don’t know how to explain it, but he thinks we can use the petals that are making me sick to make your flowers grow again, so—”

“I don’t want that.”

Takeru blinked. “What?”

“It’s just another experiment, and I don’t want to be somebody’s lab rat again.”

The buzzing energy that had been carrying Takeru faltered, and he forced himself to sit up straighter. “I know you don’t trust them, but this could be a good chance. It won’t hurt you, and it could fix—”

“You don’t know what it will do,” Yuusaku snapped, “and I don’t need to be fixed. I’m used to being this way.” He leaned closer, holding eye contact. “I don’t want you to be used for an experiment. If you’re going to have the surgery regardless, then you should do it through our doctor.”

His chest constricted, and Takeru dug his nails into the bench’s worn surface. “Please don’t tell me what to do. I want to help you, so if I can, then I will.”

“I said I don’t want it.”

“Why not? What if it lets you go back to how you were before the surgery? Wouldn’t that be better?” Never mind that Takeru didn’t know that Yuusaku, hadn’t befriended or loved that Yuusaku. He raised his jaw. “Why shouldn’t I do it?”

“I already told you.”

Heat drummed through his body and dried his throat. It didn’t make sense. Takeru had been set on making things better the way only he could, but Yuusaku wanted to stop him. “I’m supposed to go back to see if there’s a chance of it working, so please—” His voice broke into coughing, and Yuusaku reached for him.

“Takeru, don’t—”

Takeru fled into the hallway to brace himself against the wall and wait out the fit, his hand shaking as he pressed it to his mouth. This pain had to be worth something. He would make it be good.

* * *

At his parents’ funeral, there had been chrysanthemums, and in the time after, there had been Kiku. A human girl who talked to flowers and let them hold her hands, she’d gone out of her way to befriend him, the Hana boy too depressed to talk to anybody. She’d taught him everything she’d known about flowers, starting with the blue one she’d shoved into his face.

_Do you know what this is?_

_…A flower?_

_That’s not what I meant, silly! It’s a morning glory! I know all the flowers’ names, so I can teach them to you if you want._

_Do you really? Then…what are my flowers?_

_That’s easy! Those are red spider lilies, and they’re associated with…_

When she’d hesitated and then refused to answer, he’d thought she didn’t know after all. Years later he’d realized what she’d tried to avoid.

* * *

The Garden’s porch spread from the door to the edge of the flowers, but instead of being quiet and empty like it usually was, its shade swarmed with young Hana around their ringleader Onizuka. Plastic bags lay on the concrete to act as nests for watermelons, many of which had been gutted, and Onizuka cut open another one as he sat on the porch. While the kids attacked the fresh melon, he held a slice towards Takeru standing in the doorway. “Want some?”

“Thank you.” Takeru accepted the slice and sat beside Onizuka. He couldn’t remember when he’d last eaten watermelon, but the sweetness and wet crunch brought to mind the time Kiku had explained one couldn’t grow in his stomach if he accidentally swallowed a seed after he’d cried because an older kid at the Garden had convinced him it would.

_That’s silly,_ she’d said. _Watermelons are a lot bigger than flowers, so there wouldn’t be enough room._

“It’s weird to see you without Fujiki. You two seem to be glued together when I’m around.”

“Guess that’s how I got sick.”

Onizuka frowned over his own chunk of watermelon. “You need to go back to school soon. If you miss too much now, it’ll make your life harder later. Have you thought about what you’re going to do when you’re too old to stay here anymore?”

Takeru took another bite and shrugged. “They won’t let me on the campus right now anyways, but I still have a couple years.”

“You also have decisions to make, and you can’t let what’s happening now make you forget about the rest of your life.”

Takeru ducked his head to pick a stray seed from his mouth, but when he looked up, Onizuka was waiting, so he nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

Onizuka’s neutral push was a refreshing change from how everybody else had been trying to dissuade him or acting like he was going to kill himself before their eyes, so the conversation was still in his head when he took the scissors Yuusaku used into the bathroom. A wide mirror hung over the sinks, and as Takeru considered the mess of spider lilies in his reflection, he tugged on one growing above his eyes. The pull stabbed his scalp like a needle in reverse, and it would hurt more if he went through with it, so with a small breath, he raised the scissors, rubber handles fitting awkwardly in his fingers, and clipped the stem.

Progress crawled as he struggled not to cut himself or mangle his hair, and by the end several itching strands were caught in his shirt’s collar, but it was done. When he returned to the clinic, Genome told him the transplanted wisteria petals had grown successfully in the test animals.

“Of course, given the scale involved, it was a small success. I believe that to treat the source, the flowers will need to reach a certain size before being removed.”

Takeru slowly nodded. “How long will I need to wait?”

* * *

After several years of collecting the town’s stray Hana, the Garden had grown too overwhelmed to function, so it had been shut down, and the children had been scattered to other orphanages. Takeru had been sent away from his home, his parents, and Kiku, but a few weeks later, the first letter had arrived. He’d already spoken to Kiku on the telephone about how he was doing and how she didn’t need to write to him, but she’d done it anyways. The letter must have been a meticulous effort, painstakingly decorated with stickers, patterned tape, and drawings of bunnies, and Takeru had smiled at the image of Kiku almost buzzing as she worked to make it perfect. The text had been just as careful, not a stroke out of place as she chronicled everything that had happened in his absence like she could keep him with her through sheer dedication to the end.

_I promise I’m going to come see you when I can, so you’d better take care of yourself until then! I love you!_

* * *

The flowers grew until he felt them in every wheezing breath, until his head spun with their constant scent, but he couldn’t hate them, not even when the tree from the riverbank reached towards him, and blooming vines wrapped around his neck to hang him.

Takeru woke choking, his vision a blur, and something landed beside him before a hand grabbed his shoulder to drag him upright. He coughed until petals burst from his throat and fluid dripped in thick strings from his lips, and when it stopped, he gasped for air as he wiped the tears running down his face. Darkness hovered around him, and his glasses were somewhere beyond his reach, but he knew the figure leaning over his bed.

“Yuusaku,” he rasped.

The grip on his shoulder disappeared, and Yuusaku pulled back the curtain around the bed to let in the window’s weak light. “Are you okay now?”

“As much as I can be.” A chuckle slipped from his mouth as he rubbed his eyes clear. Dark red clotted the petals in the trashcan sitting beside him, and cold sweat plastered his shirt to his back. Takeru watched as Yuusaku crossed the infirmary to pull a paper napkin from the dispenser over the sink. “What are you doing in here?”

“Checking on you.” Yuusaku gave him the napkin and sat on the edge of the low bed. “Can I do anything to help?”

After wiping his mouth, Takeru crumpled the napkin and dropped it onto the petals. Blood rotted on his tongue. “I need something to drink.” He grabbed Yuusaku’s arm to stop him. “I’ll go get it. I need to move around anyways.”

The tile was cold enough to make his feet ache, so Takeru grabbed his slippers from under the bed and his glasses from the table. This late at night, the halls gaped empty and dark with a quiet that had become rare since summer break had started. Takeru flicked on a single light over the kitchen sink before grabbing a juice box from a shelf too high for the kids to reach. The sweetness cleaned his mouth, but his brain still floated in his skull, so with the box held close to his lips, he sank to the floor to sit with his back against the cabinets.

“What are you doing?” Yuusaku said.

Takeru let his head roll back against a cabinet door. “Tired.”

“Do you need to go back to bed?”

“Not yet.”

Yuusaku sat beside him. “Why are you doing this? You’re going to have the surgery either way, so you don’t have to let yourself get so sick.”

“I want to do something for you. I know you didn’t ask for it, but I still want to help you, so I’m hoping you’ll come around to see it the way I do.”

“You’re trying to force me to agree with you.”

Raising his eyebrows, he allowed a sheepish smile onto his face. “Yeah, I guess. I’m sorry, but I’ve already made my decision.”

His eyes narrowed, Yuusaku stared into the darkness and let the quiet settled around them. Takeru didn’t know how to make him understand what he was feeling, and as he tried to put together an explanation in his swirling thoughts, his eyes slipped shut until an ache in his spine and a squeeze on his hand brought him back to find his head resting on Yuusaku’s shoulder. With a jolt, Takeru leaned away, another apology on his tongue, but it evaporated when he realized Yuusaku was holding his hand.

“Um, Yuusaku…?” His face warming, he let the thought hang unfinished as Yuusaku blankly considered their hands. They were close enough for Takeru to see his dark eyelashes, but he couldn’t figure out what that gaze meant.

“You love me?”

The voice was unnervingly soft, almost childish, and Takeru squeezed the cardboard of his juice box in his free hand. This Yuusaku was one he never would’ve expected to meet. “Yes, of course. You must’ve known that already. We’ve all known since I got sick, but nobody wanted to talk about it.”

“Is that why you’re doing this?”

Takeru shifted. That reasoning sounded too direct, maybe even a little selfish, but he couldn’t deny it. “I guess so.”

“Then you need to stop. I don’t want you to hurt yourself for my sake.” Yuusaku had returned to his guarded firmness, and Takeru pulled his hand free as it squeezed into a fist.

“Why does it matter to you? You don’t feel things for other people anyways, right? You can’t even feel like I do—” Catching himself before he went any further, Takeru bit his lip. Did he really think Yuusaku didn’t care about him, or was he just tired of somebody trying to change his mind again? He felt too weak to figure it out, so he shook his head with a sigh. “That’s not your fault. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.” Yuusaku’s voice hadn’t changed, but his eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the floor. Takeru didn’t have the energy for more of that conversation, so he focused on his drink to ignore the twisting in his chest.

Sometimes it felt like he didn’t know Yuusaku at all.

* * *

Takeru had met Yuusaku on his first day at the Garden. Sako had given him a quick tour and introduced him to everybody they’d seen although he hadn’t stood a chance of remembering all their names, and at last she’d taken him to the bedroom where he would be staying. Still in his school uniform, Yuusaku had been sitting on his bed with a book when Sako had nodded towards him, given his name, and said they would be in the same grade at school. The bed next to his had been left open, completely abandoned unlike the others, so after she’d left, Takeru had set his bags there and gotten Yuusaku’s attention with a wave.

_Fujiki Yuusaku, right? I’m Homura Takeru, and I’ll be staying here from now on, so…nice to meet you?_

Yuusaku had given him a single glance before returning to his book and shifting away.

* * *

Leaning back in a desk chair in the infirmary, Takeru turned in slow circles as faint chatter visited him through the open door. The city would be having a festival that night, and although Onizuka was going with the Hana, Sako had insisted on assigning everybody partners in case the group split.

“Don’t go anywhere without your partner, okay?” she repeated over the noise down the hall. “Even if you can’t find anybody else, make sure you stay with them. You’ll be safer that way.”

Once Sako was satisfied, the group left with Onizuka, and the house fell into the restless quiet of running air conditioning and the cicadas outside the window. Takeru sighed as he watched the paper flowers hanging from the ceiling sway. The summertime emptiness had hit him harder than usual that year, and he couldn’t stop imagining what it would be like to go to the festival, so he got to his feet to head outside, but when he saw Yuusaku sitting on the edge of the porch with his knees hugged to his chest, Takeru stopped in the doorway. They hadn’t spoken much since that conversation in the kitchen a few days before, but Yuusaku looked lonely in the fading light, so Takeru stepped forward. “You didn’t go with them?”

Yuusaku looked over his shoulder. “You should be resting.” His voice sounded clean and neutral, empty of the resentment or annoyance part of Takeru had feared, so Takeru smiled and sat beside him on the warm concrete.

“But it’s boring in there, and soon all I’ll be doing is resting anyways.” He didn’t have much time before the flowers would burst his lungs and spread through his body, so his surgery had been scheduled for next week, but Yuusaku still hadn’t agreed to the aftermath. As the implications of what Takeru had said silently raised the issue, Yuusaku unfolded his legs to sit up straighter, and Takeru blinked. “That’s different.”

“What is?”

Takeru stared at the flowers growing where Yuusaku had set his feet on the ground. Usually they would have grabbed for him like he was a human before letting him through, but this time they’d parted right away like he was any other Hana. “When did the flowers stop reaching for you?”

Shrugging, Yuusaku leaned to touch a dark blue violet. The petals rippled in greeting, and when he plucked it from the ground, the flower flinched once before resuming its easy sway. As he held it on his open palm, the stem crept longer, already seeking a way to heal. “Are you going to try to convince me again?”

“I wasn’t planning on it.” He knew too well the exhaustion of having somebody always trying to change his mind, and he couldn’t bear the thought of Yuusaku coming to hate him. Takeru barely caught the soft exhale beside him, and for a while after, only the cicadas spoke in their ringing calls as he moved to sit cross-legged and hold onto his ankles. The shuffling of steps and the murmur of voices crept over the wall as humans and Hana mingled in the festival streets.

“I’ve never told anybody before, but when my flowers didn’t grow back, I felt more relieved than anything. I thought I would never have to deal with them again, but everybody acted like that was a bad thing, and I didn’t understand why.” Veins of rot streaked his words as Yuusaku watched the violet growing across his palm. “I told myself it was better that way because I wouldn’t have to worry about making somebody feel like I had, but I was really just scared of getting sick again. All this time, I’ve been avoiding them, and now I don’t understand what’s happening to me, and you’re sick anyways. This has lasted for too long.”

“What can you do about it?” Takeru leaned away when Yuusaku looked at him. He’d grown used to how intense Yuusaku could be, how he could make any eye contact feel close without trying, but this was more than usual.

“Can I try something?”

“Like what?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Heat washed up his neck and threatened him with yet another choking fit as Takeru gaped, and all that slipped free of the jumble in his brain was a weak, “Sure?”

He squeezed his eyes shut on reflex as Yuusaku leaned closer, but the press against his mouth was gentle, somehow different than he’d expected, and when he opened his eyes, Yuusaku had shifted away to return the violet he’d picked to the ground. The kiss had been light and quick, and Takeru’s heart sank as he remembered how they’d held hands in the kitchen. Would this be the same way—Takeru affected but Yuusaku not?

“So…” Takeru cleared his throat. “Did that, uh…fix anything?”

Yuusaku sat up. “I just needed some help to figure it out.” When he looked over, the wall had dropped, the hardness in his expression breaking for something fresh. The change wasn’t drastic, but Takeru knew enough to see it. “I love you too.”

People talked about those four words like they were magical, but the world didn’t change after Yuusaku said them. The cicadas continued their crying, metal clanged in the distance, and Takeru rocked back with a chuckle. “What kind of timing is that?”

“Don’t you believe me?”

“I do believe you. I really do.” He took a slow, rasping breath. It was too soon to feel the change yet, but the thought of flowers dying inside him made his chest ache.

* * *

His mother had preserved flowers between the pages of books, and many times Takeru had sat with her at the low table in their living room and flipped through her collection as she talked about each one. Just a child, he’d paid more attention to the colors and shapes than to what she’d said, but he’d lingered on the page holding three different flowers—his father’s pink, his mother’s purple, and his red. His mother had always had the same story for them.

_You know, I fell in love with your father before he even liked me. It was so embarrassing to have everybody discover my feelings that way, and I really hated being sick, but he did come around soon enough, and now we have you. So you don’t have to be afraid of the flowers, okay? They take care of people like us._

* * *

Takeru held onto the side of the cabinet over his bed as he organized folded clothes on the shelves. The bedroom was busy with boys cleaning or playing, so he’d almost fallen more than once from people bumping against the bedframe as he stood on the mattress, but he wouldn’t let anything distract him from his job—at least, not until Sako called his name from the doorway.

“Come with me, please. I have something waiting for you.”

He hadn’t expected the promised something to be a _person_ , especially not the friend he’d had to leave behind, but when he reached the main room, there she was, standing near the door with a bag on her shoulder and her hair in a braid, and she sprang on him with a hug that made his lungs ache. “Takeru! It’s so good to see you again!”

“Good to see you too,” he wheezed, “but you’re choking me, Kiku.”

“Ah, right.” Stepping back, Kiku squeezed the straps of her bag. “And after Sako-san told me you’d been sick—I’m sorry!”

“It’s fine. What are you doing here?”

“I said I’d visit you when I could, right?” Her face brightened. “Well, it took a lot of part-time work and a summer job to save up for the train tickets and somewhere to stay while I’m here, but I did it. Sako-san helped with the arrangements, and she promised to keep it a secret so I could surprise you.” She looked towards the doorway where Sako had stopped, and Sako bowed her head.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have things I need to do. Please make yourself at home.” Sako left them by vanishing down a hall, and as noise bled into the room from the rest of the Garden, Kiku looked Takeru over and squeezed her bag’s straps again.

“About you being sick…I heard it got really bad. Are you all right?”

“Yeah. It took me a while to get over it, but I’m fine now.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “The flowers went away on their own, so…”

“So?” With a glint in her eyes, she smiled and turned away. “Well, I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to talk all about that before I go home. Right now, I want to see where you’ve been living.”

“The others might not be comfortable with—Kiku!” Takeru chased after her as she darted from the room, so he had little choice but to let her look around until he stopped her at the closed bedroom door. “This room is for guys only, so I don’t think you should just barge in.”

Kiku pouted. “Aww, come on. I promise I won’t mess with anything, and I’ll leave right away if anybody complains.”

As he tried to find a way to explain he didn’t want a bunch of teenage boys simultaneously asking him who the cute human girl was without saying _that_ , the door opened, and Kiku lunged only to catch herself with a hand against the doorframe. Yuusaku stepped into the hall, raised an eyebrow at her, and looked at Takeru.

“My friend Kiku came to visit.” Takeru shut the door before anybody in the room could see them. “Kiku, this is Yuusaku. He’s my, uh…other friend.”

“Nice to meet you,” Kiku chirped. “Takeru’s been a little shy as long as I’ve known him, so I’m glad to see he’s made a friend here on his own. I’ve heard some about you, but has he told you anything about me?”

“Some,” Yuusaku said as Takeru hissed, “ _Kiku._ ”

She flashed a grin before digging through her bag to pull out a smartphone. “Then how about we take a picture together, the three of us? I can get it developed before I have to go home, so we’ll each have our own copy. You like keeping photos, right, Takeru?” Of course, she knew about the photograph of him with his parents. She’d seen it at the old Garden and had sent him the magnetic frame as a present after he’d mentioned not having a way to display it in his new room.

“That sounds fine to me,” Yuusaku said, and Takeru nodded.

“Where do you want to take it?”

“How about the front yard? I love the flowers out there.” Kiku led the way through the Garden like she already knew the place. A few kids sat together on the porch, so after directing Takeru and Yuusaku to a certain point in the yard, Kiku recruited the oldest girl to work her phone, and as she explained how to use the camera and set up the shot, Takeru watched Yuusaku.

The week after the invasive flowers had died in Takeru’s lungs, blue wisteria petals had appeared in Yuusaku’s hair. The first flowers had been few in number and hesitant to grow, and Yuusaku had been so fidgety about them that he’d picked a couple on accident, but he’d grown to love them again so much that he’d scowled when Takeru had mentioned how he would need to cut them when the break ended. Despite the change, he was still the same Yuusaku, the only one Takeru had ever known, and a grin sprouted on Takeru’s lips before Yuusaku glanced over. “What is it?”

“She’ll probably learn about us before she goes home.”

“Should I tell her, or do you want to do it?”

Takeru shrugged. “I haven’t decided yet.” Before they could say anymore, Kiku darted over, unfazed by the flowers trying to wrap around her legs, to stand beside Takeru and hold up a peace sign.

“Okay, you two, closer together. Smile!”

Afterwards, the new photograph lived in a magnetic frame beside his old one.


End file.
